Run for the Sand Wastes
by Kita42
Summary: It's off season for demon hunting, so Dean and Sam decide to check out a lead that's a tad strange... even for them.
1. Chapter 1

They were lounging at a café, half-drunk coffees long since forgotten, yet every crumb cleared from the plate Dean's pie had been resting on. The Wi-Fi in the place was excellent, which was primarily why they'd chosen it; they were between jobs, waiting, and looking for a case.

Both Winchesters were hoping for something relatively simple. Just another, perfectly ordinary job; at least, ordinary for themselves. It was difficult, searching through news articles and blog posts that contained all manner of hoaxes, looking for stories that were strange, fascinating, and just believable enough that weren't likely to be complete drivel.

'Some guy says the flickering lights in his house are the ghost of his dead creepy grandma?' asked Dean somewhat disinterestedly.

Sam chuckled. 'Almost definitely a hoax.'

'Damn it.'

A few minutes later...

'Vanishing kids in a small town in Illinois?'

'Dean, we checked that one over last week. It was that crazy old teacher with Alzheimer's who thought all his students were vanishing.'

Dean mumbled something and went back to scrolling through web pages.

Interestingly, the one that Sam finally decided to bring to Dean's attention wasn't one of these stories; it was a news article condemning a man, apparently for scientific fraud, and the papers of said scientist. Sam flipped the laptop around, waved his hand in front of Dean's face to get his attention, and then waited as Dean skimmed the article.

'So some local science freak lost a few of his marbles,' he said, indicating the picture of the crazed scientist next to the article, 'So?'

'That's what I thought,' said Sam, clicking over a tab to show Dean the paper, 'Until I read this.'

'"The Quiet Desert Town Where the Impossible is Always True,"' Dean read out, before looking back at Sam, 'You sure he didn't just… I don't know, was offered some "scientifically intriguing" mushrooms and decided to give them a shot before skipping town?'

'Not likely,' said Sam, as Dean continued to read, 'He says he and his team measured seismic activity that no one in the entire town could feel. That there's a house that doesn't exist, but everyone sees. That, and for some reason, it's a public misdemeanour not to eat at a local pizza shop once a week.'

Dean's eyes widened in surprise as he read something about clocks not working.

'He even said something about angels,' said Sam, and Dean snapped the laptop closed.

'Right,' said Dean, 'worth checking out. Let's head out.'

They packed up their laptops, left a tip and headed out to the Impala.

* * *

The ride to the supposed most haunted town, by all rights, should have taken them a couple of days. However, in typical Winchester fashion, they had left in the early hours of the morning and were nearing the town by the time the sun had started setting. Sam had leant back his seat as far as it would go and was quietly snoring while Dean was driving, muttering the lyrics to the songs that decidedly weren't playing; he'd reluctantly switched the stereo off to let Sam sleep.

When they were still a short distance out from their destination, the radio on the Impala crackled into life. Sam mumbled tiredly and blinked a couple of times.

'Dude,' said Sam, rolling over and leaning his head against the window, 'this isn't even a channel.'

'Yeah, and I didn't even turn it on,' said Dean, jabbing at buttons in an attempt to convince the stereo system to return to its previous state of silence.

Sam reluctantly set himself upright and took over the job of trying to fix the stereo while Dean drove, his eyes occasionally flicking back to the centre console. You know. Just to check that Sam was doing everything right. After all the poor car had been through, he wouldn't want to have to fix his baby yet again for something as dumb as a radio malfunction.

'There's actually nothing wrong as far as I can see,' said Sam, adjusting the radio frequency carefully, 'I'm not sure... I don't even think it's on, Dean.'

The static suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a gentle, male voice.

'Trumpets playing soft jazz from out of the dark, desert distance. They come tomorrow. It is too late for us.'

'Dude, shut it OFF,' said Dean, his eyes now fixed firmly on the road while Sam ditched his careful attempts and started frantically attacking the sound system, hitting buttons and adjusting even the air vents in an attempt to shut off the voice.

'Welcome,'

'Sammy...'

'To Night Vale.'

Surreal, eerie music poured in through the speakers. Sam and Dean sat upright quickly, staring out of the windscreen at a sign proclaiming the same welcome message as the radio. In the distance, they could see a radio tower and the beginning of a sprawling set of buildings making up the town. On the edge of town they could see a red, glowing sign; as they approached, they realised that it was an Arby's. They also realised that, above the Arby's, a set of mysterious, unfathomable lights were dancing around.

Aside from the voice prattling on about a faceless old woman, there was silence in the Impala. Sam stared at Dean with an expression torn between horror and morbid curiosity.

'Right, well, maybe this scientist wasn't completely nuts,' said Dean, 'and I don't know about you, but I could really go for a sandwich.'

* * *

Surprisingly, the ominous lights overhead didn't put a damper on their dinner at Arby's. None of the other people in the place so much as mentioned the lights, though a fair few of them were talking about the radio.

The radio that was still playing the same program and that, apparently, everyone listened to.

Also, this Arby's didn't sell sandwiches. Which is why Sam was happily digging into a salad while Dean glared at him across his drink.

'What?' asked Sam after a few minutes of Dean glaring.

'If you had something to do with this...'

'Dean, how was I supposed to know this town had a ban on anything made of wheat?'

Sam was right, of course. So the moment he'd finished eating his completely non-manly salad, Dean stood up and headed for the door.

'Motel?' Sam asked, following.

'Pizza first.'

'Why...'

'You reckon a guy running a law endorsed pizza joint is gonna make his base out of lettuce? Come on, Sam, I need real food!'

Sam rolled his eyes as they slid into either side of the Impala, and decided not to complain.

The pizza place was close by. Dean parked opposite it with a wide grin that turned into a confused look as he noticed a banana skin lying on the side of the road opposite "Big Rico's." Normally litter wouldn't make a dent in Dean's vision. But there was something off about it. Which may have had something to do with the huge red flag sticking out of it.

'Dude,' said Sam, pointing at it, 'see that?'

'Yup,' said Dean, wondering when bits of banana peel became more worthy of focus than bustling pizza places.

'See how no one's going anywhere near it?'

So that's what it was, thought Dean. There were plenty of people around, most of them going in or out of Big Rico's, but none going near a piece if banana peel with a flag in it. Well, no pain no gain, he thought, and he got out of the car.

'This, then pizza,' said Dean. He started walking over to the flag-marked banana skin.

'Stop!' yelled a voice from across the street, but Dean didn't look up. No way was anyone around here talking to him, he figured.

He was three feet away from the peel when it started pouring out smoke. He didn't have time to react; suddenly, he was crashed into and pushed backwards, landing uncomfortably on the concrete. He looked up just in time to see the guy who crashed into him leap up and pull him further away, right as the peel burst into a six feet wide cylinder of flame.

Dean scrambled to his feet. His rescuer grabbed his arm while Dean stared at the flames, from which a menacing, hooded figure was emerging as the flames slowly flickered away.

'What the hell is...'

'Don't look at it, don't think about it, get inside,' said the man. Dean looked up to see Sam running after them. He turned, following his rescuer through the door of the building next to Rico's. The man waited til Sam was through too before shutting, bolting and (for some reason) spraying the door with lemon scented cleaning spray.

'Oh my god,' said the man, pacing next to the door, 'oh my god oh my god oh my...'

'You want to tell us what the hell that was?!' asked Dean.

The man paused his pacing and turned to look at Sam and Dean. He was dark skinned, was wearing a lab coat, and had hair that even Sam was envious of.

'He means thanks for saving his life,' said Sam, 'I'm Sam, this is Dean. Honestly, thank you.'

'Carlos,' said the man, stepping forward to shake their hands, 'And that was… ok, that was a hooded figure and we have to stop talking about it immediately or that lemon spray isn't going to help at _all_.'

Dean and Sam both opened their mouths to talk and Carlos held his finger to his lips.

'Please, don't, it'd be a really, really terrible idea. More importantly, do you realise how dangerous litter marked with a red flag is?'

Dean and Sam both looked at him like he was nuts.

'Uh…' said Sam, 'No?'

'Are we missing something?' added Dean.

Carlos stared at them, jaw dropped, shaking his head.

'You're new here,' he asked, 'aren't you?' Before either Winchester had time to answer, he kept talking, 'Alright, a few things. Don't go near anything with a red flag in it. There are no hooded figures, don't even think there are.'

Sam moved to interrupt, but Carlos stared him down in a way that only a scientist being serious can.

'If you see any helicopters, make sure they aren't painted with birds of prey diving. Don't even go near the dog park. Um… Be very, very careful if you go to the library. And even if angels are empirically there, and it's obvious that everyone can see them, they don't exist because _apparently_…'

This time Sam did interrupt Carlos, because it became evident that he'd moved from serious scientist to scientist-whose-scientific-process-has-been-interf ered-with-by-the-authorities.

'When you say angels, do you mean…' Sam started.

'I mean the multi-winged, multi-eyed, eight-foot tall creatures that hang around old woman Josie's house,' said Carlos, 'or I would, if anyone would admit they existed.'

Dean had raised an eyebrow at the description.

'Seriously?' he asked, 'that doesn't sound like the angels we know.'

'What are the angels you know like, then?'

'Mostly,' said Dean, 'dicks.'

Carlos looked halfway between confused and concerned.

'Is that… literally, or…'

'Oh god no,' said Sam, 'figuratively. But they really are assholes. I mean…'

'I get it,' said Carlos, 'But… well, where are you two from, if you say that you've met angels?'

They didn't have a good answer to that one.

'We're just here to investigate,' said Dean, 'some scientist from here said something about earthquakes? Which is nuts, by the way, cause I can't feel a thing.'

'That'd be one of my lot,' said Carlos sadly, 'they've all left, now, the scientists. Well, except for me. Sometimes one or two'll come past to see if they can uncover any great secrets, but they're never here for long.'

'So what made you stick around?' asked Sam.

'Oh, you know,' said Carlos, 'Science. Opportunity. Getting used to the mandatory pizza days. That sort of thing.'

He was blushing and stumbling over his words by the time he stopped talking, but they didn't care to ask. He had, after all, just saved Dean from a wall of fire.

A wall of fire and nothing else, thought Sam decisively. He wasn't sure why he believed Carlos so readily, but he didn't exactly want to find out what would happen if he was telling the truth about thinking about hooded figures.

'We were just going to be here a few days,' said Sam, 'find a motel, take a look around. We wanted to see if we could figure out what was going on.'

'Oh, you don't want to go to a motel,' said Carlos, looking worried.

'What, is there something wrong with those too?' asked Dean?

'No, they're just awful,' said Carlos, 'terrible, really, I stayed at one when I first got here and let me tell you…'

'So, you'd recommend we stay… where?'

Carlos looked at the pair of them, and sighed.

'I'd recommend you leave as fast as you can, actually,' said Carlos, 'but I'm assuming you seem pretty intent on staying, so… you could always use one of the flats upstairs. This is a live in laboratory, but seeing as there's no one here but me…'

'Are you sure?' asked Sam.

'I don't see why not,' said Carlos, 'Pick any of the rooms, they're unlocked. We don't really have much of a problem with crime around here, strangely enough. There's not much of a kitchen, if you're eating in, but the pizza place next door's the only place in town that does anything with wheat if you're looking for…'

'That's that then,' said Dean, moving towards the door. He paused, and pointed at it. 'This safe to go through?'

They all pointedly refused to think about why Dean was asking that question.

'Definitely, by now,' said Carlos, 'I'll see you around the laboratory, no doubt.'

'You could always join us, if you want,' said Sam as Dean strolled out the door, 'We wouldn't mind.'

'Oh, no,' said Carlos, 'I mean, thank you, but that's alright. I had my mandatory pizza dinner yesterday. And I've already eaten.'

'If you're sure,' said Sam. He followed Dean out the door. As he left, he could have sworn that he could hear the same radio station playing quietly as they'd heard in the Impala and the Arby's.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was sitting at a lab bench, fidgeting with impatience. It was lunch time on their first real day in Night Vale, and after going to check out different leads that morning, he and Sam had agreed to meet back at the lab for lunch and a recap of what they'd learnt. Carlos was out, in his words "doing science," so the lab was free.

It was going on two in the afternoon when Sam finally stepped through the door. Dean stood up sharply. Sam was covered in what looked like orange blood.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Dean.

"Librarians," he said, slumping onto a lab stool and trying to wipe the blood out of his hair, "Seriously, don't go into the library."

"Because of the librarians?"

"Well, that and it was a complete waste of time," said Sam, "you should have seen the biography section."

"Why were you in the biographies section?!"

"I figured I'd take a look around after I saw the history section was covered in runes I've never seen before and the walls were lined with soap dispensers!"

"Ok, good call. Did you find anything?

"Nothing we could use," said Sam, "no answers, just... More questions. What about you, did you find anything?"

Dean chuckled. "No luck," he said, "I tried the mayor's office but she was "otherwise indisposed," whatever the hell that means. So I tried the bowling alley."

Sam stared, an eyebrow raised sardonically. "The bowling alley."

"Yeah, why?"

"What exactly were you expecting to find in the bowling alley?"

"I dunno, enchanted bowling pins? This place is crazy, Sam, figured it didn't matter where I went I'd find something."

"And did you?"

"Yeah, it was closed because of "the advancing miniature army from under lane five." And then it said something about the Apache tracker's memorial statue being buried in the desert."

"Is that worth checking out?"

"I don't know!" said Dean, his voice pitched higher than usual, "everything's a lead here! How do we even start to figure this out?"

"We could try a newspaper?"

"I did that," said Dean, looking more frantic by the second, "there's a newspaper stand across the road that is _full of milk_."

Sam stared. After a pause, he pointed at his blood-stained shirt and said "Look, I need to get rid of this. I'm having a shower. Maybe try looking online or something."

Sam walked out, leaving Dean to ponder what the hell they were going to do next. In desperation, he went to get his laptop, took it back into the lab and started googling.

The mass of information was insane, varied and completely disconnected from any standard reality. There were scientific papers, news articles, and a few local websites for the school and the community radio. Just as he started to refine his search to "Night Vale Dog Park," the front door to the lab opened.

"Thought you were out doing science," said Dean as Carlos shuffled into the lab.

"I was," said Carlos, "but the people being terrified of all that the empty sky implies were distracting."

Dean looked exasperated. "Oh, great. Another one for the list."

"What are you researching?" asked Carlos, walking over to Dean's laptop.

"The dog park," started Dean, "but..."

He didn't get any further. Carlos squeaked, dashed over and spun the laptop around to face him. He started frantically clicking and typing.

"Dude, what ..."

"Didn't I tell you about the park?" asked Carlos, "it's dangerous!"

"Dangerous? Dangerous? I've been to hell, actual hell. I know dangerous."

Carlos looked thoughtful. "That's interesting."

Dean stared at him.

"I mean, that must have been awful," said Carlos, rushing his words now, "but... Well, no one's ever made it out of the dog park before. But if you've made it out of hell..."

"Are you trying to tell me that hell is a picnic compared to your damn dog park?"

"Probably not," said Carlos, "but it would be easier to get out of."

"He had help," said Sam. He'd walked into the room while they were talking and was standing by a door, drying his hair with a towel, "and speaking of help, you really should call Cas."

"Why would he be interested in..."

"Angels, for a start," said Sam, "but either way, we need help. Preferably before anyone gets killed by a librarian."

"Oh, you didn't go to the library..." started Carlos, "did you at least use the librarian repellent?"

"There's repellent for those things?"

"Yes, of course, in the soap dispensers."

Sam's mouth fell open. "You're joking."

"You didn't use the repellent? How are you still alive?!"

"Well, luckily those things can be killed by demon knives."

"Demon knives?!"

"You're right, this is first class crazy, said Dean, "Ok then. Dear Cas, I pray that you give enough of a damn about this weird-ass town to..."

"I'm here, Dean."

Castiel had appeared in the corner of the lab. Dean and Sam looked grateful; Carlos looked that combination of terrified and curious that only a scientist can manage.

"Who are you, and how on Earth did you manage that?"

"My name is..."

"This is Cas, Carlos," said Dean, "And he's one of our angels."

"You're an angel?" asked Carlos , "No, wait, I don't know if I should be knowing about this, the Sheriff's secret police won't like it..." all three visitors stared in disbelief while Carlos was thinking, " wait, I thought you said all your angels were d-"

"Yeah, well, not Cas," said Dean, "Cas, you ever heard of a town called Night Vale?"

"Night Vale?" asked Cas, "If I remember correctly, I have. A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep... assuming I am interpreting your friend's expression correctly, I have. Gabriel enjoyed the local radio show."

Carlos' face was completely astonished and somewhat terrified to boot. "Gabriel? Gabriel, the archangel, listens to Cecil's show?"

"Ok, hold up," said Sam, stopping everyone as they were on the verge of asking more questions, "clearly we've got a lot of background to cover. Let's just find somewhere to go for lunch, talk this all over and figure out where to go from there."

"Somewhere halfway normal for lunch would be awesome," said Dean.

"I know somewhere," said Carlos, "Let me just find a different coat..."

* * *

As it turned out, a "different coat" meant "a less stained yet very similar lab coat." And a normal lunch spot was the nearby Pinkberry.

They'd conversed over their yoghurt until they were each as up to speed as they could be without actually turning Carlos into a hunter. The subject of angels seemed to be off limits, both according to Carlos' frantic gesturing and a suspicious hissing noise from the waiters and waitresses whenever angels were mentioned. Eventually though, they did need to get to it; Sam and Dean hoped that Cas' power would be able to overcome any Night Vale weirdness.

"You realise this isn't lunch," said Sam, pointing at his pink frozen yoghurt. Dean nodded agreement.

"After a while here," said Carlos, "It's just easier to pick somewhere you're not likely to be killed, or turned into a shadow, or abducted by angels."

"That is strange," said Cas through a mouthful of coconut yoghurt, "I was unaware of the presence of angels in this town, as it's out of heaven's jurisdiction."

The others stared at Cas as he slowly finished his mouthful of food.

"What do you mean, out of heaven's jurisdiction?" asked Dean, "It's Earth, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Cas, "but for some reason, heaven has no authority here. Angels can visit, of course, but broken laws of heaven cannot be punished. Seals can't be broken. Demons can't inhabit the bodies of mortals here."

"That's one hell of an advantage," said Dean thoughtfully.

"Let me remind you that I just fought and killed a librarian with a demon knife," said Sam, "So how does that work?"

"I don't know," said Castiel. He turned to Carlos. "Where would I find the angels?"

"Old woman Josie's house," said Carlos, "Out by the car lot, it's the house with the porch…"

Castiel had already disappeared by the time Carlos had finished his sentence, taking his yoghurt with him.

"Thanks," said Dean sarcastically, "Meet us back at the lab at nine, ok?"

"Who are you talking to?" asked Carlos.

"Cas, he can still hear," said Dean.

"Back to the point," said Sam, "It doesn't matter how much we talk about more anomalies here we're no closer to explaining any of them. Is there any information anywhere that's reliable and _not _trying to get us killed? A TV news channel? An online newsletter? Something?"

"The closest thing you'll find is Cecil's radio show," said Carlos, "You might have heard it on the way in…"

"We couldn't shut it off," said Dean, "That's actually the most reliable way to get intel around here?"

"I wouldn't go asking around the townsfolk, if you do anything too different from the norm around here the secret police will definitely notice…" Carlos paused, spoonful of yoghurt hovering in mid-air, "Newspapers and internet are obviously out. I think you should listen to the radio show. It's on every two weeks."

"We can't exactly stick around here for months to figure this out," said Sam, "Is there any way we can listen to… say, the past year? At least it'd give us somewhere to start."

"The library has them recorded," said Carlos, "but you won't want to go back there. The community radio station isn't an option either unless you're either Cecil or Dana. But… well…"

Carlos looked slightly embarrassed as he rummaged around in his bag, forgotten spoon of yoghurt dropping onto the table. He pulled out a battered-looking mp3 player and passed it over to Sam.

"They're on there," said Carlos, "From when I got here until yesterday. It's easier than trying to get them out of the library."

"Dude, why do you even have these?" asked Dean.

"Science," said Carlos, "I was… I don't have them for personal reasons. I'm trying to find out what's going on here as much as you are."

"Well let's hope we can help you out with that," said Dean, taking the MP3 player from Sam and pocketing it.

"Thanks," said Sam, "And we should probably start listening. Come on, we'll let you get back to your science."

"I'll see you two around," said Carlos. The three of them stood up and headed out of the Pinkberry; Carlos turned left, presumably heading for somewhere he was needed to do science, while Sam and Dean turned back towards the lab. They'd chosen to walk around town rather than take the Impala; Dean had parked it out the back of the lab and, upon seeing that it was safe, refused to take it out around Night Vale. He'd said it was too risky. Sam had rolled his eyes.

They arrived at the lab and set to work. Dean and Sam pulled out their laptops, their hunting journal and two notepads. Sam plugged Carlos' mp3 player into a set of portable speakers, scrolled through the tracks (Carlos had some questionable and strange tastes in music) before finding a folder labelled "Cecil's show."

"This is it, I think," said Sam, and he pressed play.

The warm, calming voice of a seasoned radio presenter washed over them. "A friendly desert community…"

* * *

They were about six broadcasts through the collection. Rico's didn't deliver, so Dean had gone next door to collect a couple of pizzas for dinner. He looked around warily while walking back to the lab; he was sure he'd be caught for illegal trafficking of wheat and wheat by-products. Even if that was ridiculous and however stupid he felt for checking.

"Dinner!" he said, opening the lab door and putting the pizzas on the counter.

"You know we really shouldn't be eating food in a lab, Dean," said Sam, frantically scribbling notes.

"Well, seeing as we're already breaking the law what with the pizza," said Dean, "I saw we can risk it. Anything new? Other than the guy's Carlos obsession?"

"Not really," said Sam, "It stopped just after you left. But I think there's a Spanish-speaking president somewhere donating to the radio centre."

Dean shrugged and took a slice of pizza. "S'not half as weird as the rest of what we've got. Was that cardboard drawbridge thing real?"

"Yeah," said Sam, flicking through computer tabs now, "Here. The company's got their own website, the local council's got the details online… no one seems to think it's weird at all."

"No one seems to think _anything_ is weird around here. Did you notice when Cas zapped away? No one even freaking _blinked_."

"Well, there's one advantage," said Sam.

"What?"

"Think about it. It doesn't matter if we're talking about demons, wendigos, ghosts; no one here's going to hear and even if they do they won't care, they'll probably think it's normal."

Dean paused with a piece of pizza halfway to his mouth. It was true; this was a virtual safe haven for hunters. The weirdness here was way less likely to kill them than most of the things hunters dealt with on a daily basis. You were safer from angels and demons alike. They could talk about their work in public without getting arrested or locked up in a mental health hospital. Aside from the lack of bread, this place could actually be kind of relaxing.

If they weren't trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with it anyway.

"Leave the tourism for when we don't have to figure out what's going on," said Dean.

"What is going on is confusing," said Cas, and Dean and Sam both jumped a little.

"Which is?" asked Sam, picking up a pen again, ready to take more notes.

"They are angels," said Cas, "It might be more accurate to say that they were angels. Although still are, in a way."

"Angels but not angels?"

"Angels who exercised free will and refused to follow god's orders," said Cas, "After discovering that Night Vale was a safe haven for them, they settled here. It seems as though their appearances have changed as a result of that decision. They are not using vessels, but their appearance is not what their true form used to be."

"So you're saying," said Sam, still scribbling, "That once an angel decides to stay here they… change?"

"Yes," said Cas, "Although I'm not sure of the extent of their powers. They seem content with helping out Josie."

"Does that happen to people who decide to stay here?" asked Sam.

At that moment, the lab door opened and Carlos walked in, saturated and shivering.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Dean as Carlos dumped his lab coat in a basket and selected another from the array of lab coats hanging on a wall of the lab.

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary," said Carlos, pulling his coat around his shoulders, "Have you found anything?"

"We've found plenty," said Sam, "We've got explanations for none of it."

"So Carlos," said Dean, "You decided to stay in Night Vale, right? Like, permanently?"

Carlos looked thoughtful. "Mostly. I think. Why do you ask?"

"The angels at Josie's house are angels whose appearances and personalities have been influenced by your town," said Cas, "They are fundamentally changed."

"We were wondering if the same thing happened to you," said Sam.

Carlos looked between the three of them.

"I don't think so," he said, "Well, not that I can remember. My family doesn't treat me as though I'm any different when I visit them."

"Damn," said Dean, "That's that theory ganked."

"You can help yourself, by the way," said Sam, gesturing towards the pizza after noticing Carlos staring at it.

"Thanks," he took a slice, "I think your theory has some merit though. Have you listened to the thirteenth story yet?"

The Winchesters shook their heads.

"It's interesting. Between that one and the twenty first recording, it's almost as if Night Vale does have influence on people who call it home. I haven't been able to test it properly, but the hypothesis is interesting…"

"We'll work on it," said Dean, "eat your pizza, we're gonna keep listening to this."

"We can let you have your lab back to yourself if you want," said Sam, "No trouble for us to move."

"No, it's fine," said Carlos, "I'll just run a few tests, but it's alright, the radio doesn't bother me."

Castiel elected to stay, interested in the town's strange take on angels. They listened to Cecil's stories late into the night, scribbling down notes, researching anything tangible that they were able to look up (though they skipped anything they were warned not to remember or think about) and slowly learning more and more about the strange town they'd found themselves in.

They pointedly ignored the fact that after eating his pizza and spending half an hour pottering around trying to seem busy, Carlos got a pair of knitting needles, sat at the counter and listened to the radio show with them, knitting quietly in the background.

"Good night, Night Vale… Good night…"


End file.
